First world problems are mocked… until one becomes Personal to Thee or Me.

In early March, the early fright-filled days of COVID-19, our microwave lurched and stopped. Beaucoup chirpy clicks and beeps emerged from its space among the kitchen cabinets. My husband and I were in the midst of morning coffee sips, attempting to ‘come to’ at 7:00 a.m., so we were startled.

Freak-out! How will we make it through an unknown-length homestay without a microwave? To shelter-in-place to be safe from a worldwide stealthy and wicked disease.

Yes, I know the appearance of our reaction – shallow, sub-human, and unworthy – but consider the timing. It seemed like one more hurdle to vault when we were already burdened with the problem-solving required to deal with a pandemic that had arrived to scoop us up to Fear. Omg, we lived in the self-billed “Safest City in the United States”, in a bubble of prosperity and perfect weather.

My husband immediately got out of his lounge chair and fiddled with this and that – and the microwave sprung to live. Ah! It worked, easing our way through #QuarantineCuisine for 90 days and nights.

Then, wham-bam-fizzle, the valued household appliance pulled a full stop. Bad news, be still my heart!

No worries. We’d received lockdown release the day before the incident and household and its humans wouldn’t fall apart. We dressed quickly and drove to the same appliance store where we’d purchased the microwave eleven years earlier and purchased the newer version, which was the same, only different.

Yes! The microwave was in stock. Yes! The new model’s dimensions fit the space. Yes! Its install could be scheduled the next week. Yes! We pulled out our credit card, which hadn’t been used in weeks, and paid for the microwave pronto.


Life as a miracle, American style.